


13. Sorry I'm late

by loumillerlesbian



Series: 100 ways to say I love you [5]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, welcome to my personal sin bin where i take favorite scenes from other shows and turn them into smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 14:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loumillerlesbian/pseuds/loumillerlesbian
Summary: “I’m really sorry I’m late,” Lou murmurs, her fingers winding through the hair at the back of Debbie’s neck, scratching lightly in the way she’s found Debbie to enjoy.Lou is late, and she's intent on making it up to Debbie.





	13. Sorry I'm late

**Author's Note:**

> For the Guest, who commented on "42. Is this okay?": "could we maybe, perhaps, get that bar scene you mentioned ??"  
> really, who am I to deny that?  
> this was also inspired by a very particular scene in The Fall, which I'll link at the end ;)

Debbie walks into the warmly lit bar five minutes early, scanning the patrons at the bar for familiar faces. When she doesn’t see either of them, she slips into one of the more secluded corner booths at the side, settles against the curved backrest and lets her eyes wander through the room. It’s warmly lit, cozy and moderately busy - no surprise on a Saturday night, and Debbie can see why Tammy suggested this place - it’s more upscale than where they used to meet up, which is admittedly not hard, but it’s not posh either. She assumes that it's one of Tammy’s usual spots, a place for drinks with her friends and maybe swiping a wallet or two on her way out the door.

Tammy breezes through the doors, but looks around almost nervously as she searches for her, and Debbie notices the look of utter relief flooding her face as she sees her and comes over. Tammy can easily fit into any environment if she wants to, had eighteen years of being the “good daughter” to make her a chameleon in social gatherings, but the bright pink in her blonde ends still makes her stand out, even if she's not in the ripped jeans and graphic shirt she used to wear, but rather a pair of black pants and white top that make her look much more grown up.

She flops down onto the bench gracelessly, and the first thing Debbie notices are the dark circles under her eyes. “Jesus, Tam, are you sleeping at all?”

Tammy raises an eyebrow. “Good to see you, too,” she mocks, then sighs. “Does it look like I am?”

“Not really,” Debbie chuckles, and Tammy returns her smile despite the weary look on her face.

They indulge a moment of companionable silence before a waiter arrives at their table and they both order their drinks - a glass of red wine for Debbie, whiskey on the rocks for Tammy - and Debbie realizes that Tammy doesn’t even need a fake ID to drink anymore.

“So… why did you want to meet me?” Debbie asks her when the guy disappears again, peering curiously at the blonde to her side.

“I’m completing my degree soon, thought I’d catch up with you - and Lou, where is she, by the way?”

Debbie glances at her watch and notes that she should have been here ten minutes ago, and Lou is always on time, much like Debbie herself. “She probably got caught up at work, they rely on her way more than they should,” she shrugs, and only realizes how proud she sounds until the words have left her mouth. Tammy doesn’t comment on it, bless her, but she does raise an eyebrow, giving her a curious look. “Mhh.”

They spend another twenty minutes sipping their drinks, making small-talk about what they’ve been up to in the past year - or rather, Tammy talks, passionately and with wild gestures, and Debbie listens and laughs and makes allusions to jobs and watches the glint in Tammy’s eyes when she mentions their biggest share.

“I should really go,” Tammy states when she begins yawning, and Debbie glances at her watch again - Lou is forty minutes late. “Let’s just meet up with her another time.”

Debbie nods, because even if it’s only ten past eight, Tammy looks like she could, and should, sleep for ten years. “Just call me when you have time,” she suggests, and Tammy nods.

“I will,” she promises, presses a quick kiss to Debbie’s cheek and slips out of the booth. “Tell Lou I would have loved to see her, will ya?”

With that, Tammy places a twenty dollar bill on the table and she's gone before Debbie can protest, quickly winding her way through the few people obscuring her way to the door.

Debbie looks after her, sighs and sips her wine. She’ll wait for Lou because she knows she will come - after all, she had been the one to remind Debbie this morning to not forget their meeting with Tammy.

A waiter comes over and collects Tammy’s glass, picks up the twenty dollars with a nod and asks if he can bring her anything else. Debbie shakes her head, gives him a sweet smile and begins fiddling with the watch on her wrist as soon as he’s gone. 45 minutes.

They really need to pull a bigger heist, she thinks, get away for a while, get Lou out of that job. Lou claims she likes it but it's still wearing her out and maybe it's selfish, wanting to see Lou more often, but Debbie can't help it. She’s been considering Vegas, but they can't just leave, they need at least _some_ resources before.

She’s contemplating her options, current plans, ideas for marks, when she spots someone coming towards her from the side of her eye. Smiling, she looks up, ready to greet Lou, but her smile disappears the second she sees the man standing in front of her, two margaritas in his hands, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “I couldn’t help but notice you sitting over here all by yourself… I wasn't sure what you were drinking, but I think margaritas are always acceptable.” He holds up the glasses, and keeps on talking. “I’m Michael Day, Beacon and Day solicitors.”

He says it like it should impress her, and Debbie has to resist the temptation to roll her eyes. “How lovely for you.”

Seeming completely unbothered by Debbie’s disinterested response, he simply raises his eyebrows. “What do you do?” he asks, giving her another smile he probably thinks is charming. Debbie would like nothing more than to wipe it off his face.

“I’m an accountant, nothing spectacular,” she says, checks her watch again. An hour.

The guy raises his eyebrows, oblivious to her annoyed tone. “What’s your name?”

She’s about to answer, spin a boring story about an ambitious woman trying to rise up the ranks in a big firm to go along with a bland name, when she catches sight of a familiar bleach blonde hair cut behind him.

Lou slips into the booth with a casual “Sorry I’m late” and presses her lips to Debbie’s with zero hesitation. For a second Debbie is frozen in place, surprised by Lou’s bold move, before she relaxes slightly.

“It’s nice to see you,” Lou whispers when she pulls away after a few seconds, her eyes on Debbie’s, silently asking if she's okay.

Debbie gathers herself, and her gaze flits to Lou’s lips involuntarily. “Nice to see you, too.”

Lou leans in again, slowly, inch by inch, and Debbie closes the last distance, impatient, and kisses her like she means it. She feels Lou turn a little to the side, glancing at their spectator, and Debbie feels oddly satisfied with Lou’s display of possessiveness. Lou breaks away, turns to the guy still standing in front of their table, and leans forward to take the two margaritas from his hands. He’s so shocked he doesn’t object until Lou thanks him, and he seems to click back into action. “I - I’m not the waiter,” he stutters, and Debbie bites her lip to hide the amused smile that creeps onto her face when Lou hands her a glass.

“Then why are you standing there?” Lou retorts, utterly unimpressed with the weak protest, and Debbie sips at her drink to keep from laughing out loud at the guy's face. Michael Day seems to consider his chances, giving them one last incredulous look before he huffs and slugs off.

Quietly chuckling, Lou doesn’t spare him a second glance and instead looks at Debbie. “That was nice.”

“Yes it was,” Debbie agrees, lifting her glass to her lips again to take a sip if her drink.

They glance at each other over the rims of their glasses, and Lou takes another sip before placing her glass on the table. She still has her arm on the backrest, barely brushing Debbie’s shoulders, and she’s leaning into her personal space, legs pointing in Debbie’s direction. Meanwhile, Debbie drinks her margarita, looking anywhere but at Lou. She enjoys knowing the blonde’s eyes are on her, feels herself warming under her gaze.

“I’m really sorry I’m late,” Lou murmurs, her fingers winding through the hair at the back of Debbie’s neck, scratching lightly in the way she’s found Debbie to enjoy. Tilting her head back into Lou’s hand, Debbie turns to look at her.

“It’s alright, baby,” she replies softly. “Tammy said she would have loved to see you, but that poor thing looked like she works harder than you.”

“Well, some of us need to work honest jobs to keep themselves afloat, darling!” Lou grins at her own comment, but doesn't seize her ministrations in Debbie’s hair, and Debbie seems to be able to ignore her remark in favor of the pleasant sensation at the back of her neck.

Lou picks up her glass again, sips the drink slowly, and watches the way Debbie closes her eyes at the feeling of Lou’s fingers in her hair. She places her glass back on the table and gently turns Debbie’s head to capture her lips, her tongue demanding entrance and she kisses her deeply, tasting the alcohol on Debbie’s tongue.

She moves to Debbie’s neck, kisses along the spot that makes her squirm and Debbie uncrosses her legs, a familiar tingling beginning deep inside her, but before she has a chance to cross them the other way, Lou’s hand lands on her upper thigh.

“I’m _really_ sorry I’m late,” she breathes into Debbie’s ear, lets her lips graze her earlobe for a second before pressing another kiss to the side of her neck. Debbie’s breath hitches softly and Lou isn’t fooled by the way she tries to act nonchalant by taking a sip of her drink, because she feels her pulse speed up under her lips, and she smiles against the skin.

Egged on by Debbie’s reaction, Lou lets the hand on Debbie’s thigh wander up her black pants, the material soft to the touch as she runs her fingertips along the inside of her leg, teasing.

“Lou…” There’s a warning tone in Debbie’s voice but she doesn't stop her, so Lou figures she might as well keep going - she's feeling bold, because there's something about Debbie that gets her like this, experimental and willing to take the risk.

Debbie shudders under her, not quite sure how far Lou is willing to go, and suddenly, Lou presses those long fingers against her center and she jerks, the remains of her cocktail dangerously close to spilling over.

“Something wrong?” Lou questions offhandedly, and Debbie can feel herself getting wet, her legs falling apart more against her will. _This is really not fair,_ she thinks to herself. She knows that this is a really bad idea - they’re in public, in a bar, and although Lou’s hand between her legs is shielded by the tablecloth and Lou’s body, there are people in the booth next to them!

Lou begins rubbing her fingers over her, slow and with easy precision, and Debbie's protesting whisper of Lou's name turns into a quiet moan as she grabs at the booth, trying to steady herself. “Hush,” Lou admonishes her, takes her hand away to press her index finger against Debbie’s lips for a second.

Dumbstruck, Debbie lets Lou direct her to turn her head and allows her to kiss her, relieved that Lou seems to have forgone her antics even if she's burning inside now, and she's trying to think of the quickest way home when suddenly, she feels Lou fumbling with the button on her pants. Before she has a chance to reach out, it's undone and Lou’s fingers slip inside, into her panties, and she's not sure whether to be relieved or curse herself that her pants are pretty loose.

She doesn’t really have time to contemplate that, because Lou’s fingers slide through her wetness, collecting some before moving up to circle her clit, and all rational thought is pretty much gone from her brain. A low moan leaves her lips and Lou eases her touch, the hand in her hair tugging lightly. “Quiet now, baby,” she whispers, low and breathy against Debbie’s ear.

Debbie bites her lip, nods weakly when Lou ups her pressure again, rubbing over her clit in sure movements. She resumes her light scratching at the back of Debbie’s neck and it has her humming lightly, leaning back into her the touch at the same time her hips tilt up towards the hand in her pants.

When Lou flicks her wrist and slips her fingers further down, through Debbie's wetness to her entrance, Debbie’s hips twitch and she shifts, scoots down a little to allow for a better angle. Her eyes flutter closed as Lou enters her, slowly and carefully, and she lets out a low whine, barely audible over the general chatter and the piano music playing in the background. Lou shushes her, breathes against her neck and tugs at her hair just at little. Desperate to keep herself quiet, Debbie bites her lip as she looks around, scared that someone might catch on to what they’re doing, that someone could notice that Lou is currently buried two fingers deep inside her in the corner of a well-populated bar.

There’s shuffling in the booth next to them, and when Lou pulls her hand out, Debbie glances past Lou to see the group get up to leave - she prays to whatever gods are listening that it stays empty, because as soon as their backs are turned to them Lou’s hand is in her pants again and _God_ , she really doesn't want her to stop.

She tries to steady her breathing, to appear unaffected, but Lou ups her pace just a bit and she's grasping at the cushions again, digging her fingers into it to ground herself, her breathing heavy.

“You like it?” Lou drawls against her ear, almost touching, and Debbie lets out the tiniest whimper, slipping past her lips before she can stop herself. “You like knowing there are people who could just come over, and see you getting fucked right here?”

She whimpers again, louder, and Lou chuckles against her. “Quiet, Debbie,” she warns her, and Debbie bites her lip harder, willing herself to stay silent.

The heat is building deep inside her, with the steady pump of Lou's fingers inside her and the way her wrist brushes against her clit occasionally and the light scratching at the back of her neck all blending together, a delicious mix of sensation that has her body tingling. And then, Lou’s lips find her throat again, more insistent this time, and Debbie gasps at the feeling of her tongue laving across that one spot that always drives her crazy. When did she learn that?

“Lou…” she whispers weakly, feels Lou chuckle against her.

“Yes, baby?” Debbie doesn’t need to look at her to know that Lou’s expression is absolute devious right now, the smirk audible in her voice.

There’s a part of her that’s still surprised that Lou can get this reaction out of her, that Lou gets her so willing, that Lou can get Debbie to let Lou fuck her in public, barely hidden from everyone else, but Lou’s nothing if not attentive and so damn talented with her fingers, that Debbie doesn't really wonder.

“I'm so close,” she whines, feeling her body shake a little with the tell-tale signs of her imminent orgasm and Lou doesn’t tease her, just twists her wrist again to get her thumb on Debbie’s clit, tugs lightly at her hair and whispers filth in her ear and it doesn't take long for Debbie to fly over the edge, her fingers digging into the couch cushion, biting her lip go keep from crying out, her body trembling against Lou.

She lets out a laugh when she comes down, incredulous and drunk on the high of her orgasm, and reaches out towards her own glass she watches Lou finish her margarita, the way her tongue licks away a drop of alcohol from her upper lip. “Let’s get out of here,” she says, downs the rest of her drink and tugs Lou up by her hand. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> here's the scene this was inspired by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pzY9aZQE3Qc  
> (but imagine the setting a little differently, like actually separate booths and stuff, maybe a little darker?)  
> And if you haven't seen The Fall yet, PLEASE for the love of god give it a chance it's so good and it has Gillian Anderson as the ultra badass bi feminist leading detective what more do you want? 
> 
> let me know what you think!


End file.
